Cage: Montana Bounty Hunters: Dead Horse, MT

by Devlin, Delilah

  Once inside the vehicle with Dagger up front and Ardell wedged between Cage and Lacey, they made the short trip to the motel where the team had stayed the night before.

  Dagger and Lacey waved goodbye before jumping into their dark SUV for the trip back to Dead Horse. After he secured Ardell to a metal loop between the seats and his feet to another on the floorboard, Cage climbed in front next to Reaper.

  “So, how’d that feel?” Reaper asked, starting the engine.

  “Kind of anticlimactic. I’d hoped for more of fight.” He flashed a smile at Reaper whose teeth gleamed in the light from the dashboard.

  “It’s gonna be a long night. Sleep until we get to Bozeman; then you get to make the drive back to Dead Horse.”

  Cage didn’t feel the least bit sleepy, but he was a SEAL. He’d learned how to turn off his mind and his body whenever the opportunity to sleep presented itself.

  They arrived back in Dead Horse mid-morning. The team had assembled at a large table at the Dead Horse Walk-in Diner.

  Cage shook his head as he read the sign. “Seems like a strange theme,” he murmured, recalling some of the signs on the local businesses they’d passed—Dead Easy Saloon, Dead Center Guns & Pawn, Dead Heat & Air…

  “I think it’s kind of cute,” Lacey said, looking fresh and rested and wearing a powder-blue T-shirt with a unicorn on the front, cutoff blue-jean shorts, and sparkly sandals.

  “I think they’re trying too hard,” Dagger said, shaking his head.

  “Did you see the ‘Welcome to Dead Horse, Montana’ sign as you drove in?” Fig asked.

  “I did.” The skeleton of a horse running with mountains in the background had certainly been noteworthy.

  “Gotta be a story there,” Felicity said just as a waitress walked up to their table, holding a ready notepad and pen. Felicity’s gaze dropped to the nametag pinned to the woman’s ample chest. “Nadine, how did your town get its name?”

  Nadine smiled to reveal several gaps in her teeth. Even with the missing teeth, her smile made her kind of pretty for a forty-something woman. “First family who arrived to claim their land found the creek that runs through this valley fouled by a dead horse. They figured the Indians in the area did it to dissuade them from staying, but instead, they named their ranch, and then the town, after that dead horse. After they pulled the horse out of the water and left the carcass for the critters to clean, they assembled the bones, wired it up, and placed it near their homestead. A kind of welcome sign,” she said with a grin.

  Fig’s eyebrows shot upward. “That’s some story.”

  “We like the story,” Nadine said. “The terrain, the weather—they can be harsh here. The people are pretty tough, too.”

  “Good to know,” Reaper said, his expression neutral.

  After Nadine took their orders and delivered cups and a carafe of coffee to the team, Dagger leaned over the table. “Do you think she was warning us off?”

  Reaper shrugged. “Guess we’ll find out how people feel about us being here, soon enough.”

  Once breakfast was served, the conversation steered back toward the hunt for Elaine Morgan.

  “So, any suggestions how we track down the next fight? Are you sure she’ll be there?”

  Cage sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. “Elaine’s the glue that keeps the high-money patrons coming. They trust her to run a safe venue—safe, that is, from law enforcement interference or videos showing up on Facebook.”

  “How do they advertise if they don’t do any social media sharing?”

  “They don’t show streaming videos—those can be used as evidence in a court case. Word of mouth is their best sales tool. But they do use social media to plant Easter eggs about the location of the next fight. You have to know where to look, and if you miss a clue, you wouldn’t find the next one without knowing someone else who can tell you where to look for it.”

  “So, you know someone?”

  Cage nodded. “Someone who used to fight but now runs books for fights.”

  “A bookie?” Dagger said.

  “Yeah.”

  “You gonna reach out to him?”

  Cage grimaced. “I hate betraying him. Using our friendship to get an in.”

  “But you’re gonna do it…?” Lacey asked.

  Cage’s earlier elation over busting Elaine had faded. Now, he wondered if he had the stomach to go through with it. She’d likely do time—unless she was willing to roll on her asshole brother, which history had proven she was always unwilling to do. Still, he worried over the fact she was still in the business. Most fight clubs perished—either through being shut down by the cops or running sideways with local gangsters. She’d been operating on borrowed time for years, especially since she’d been weighed down trying to keep Brent out of trouble.

  He’d be doing her a favor—taking her out of that world. Maybe he could talk her into giving up her brother. He might be the only person who could get through to her. “I’ll do it.”

  Everyone was quiet for a long moment, maybe out of respect for the fact he was about to do something that, perhaps, they’d never been faced with—betraying someone they’d loved.

  Chapter 4

  Cage drove alone to Micky Donovan’s house on Flathead Lake. As he entered the drive and gazed beyond the yard to the sparkling waters behind the property, he felt a tiny twinge of envy for how well his old friend was doing. Not enough envy though to ever choose the life his friend led. Cage had always felt a little dirty about living in that world.

  He’d fallen into the illegal fight scene by accident after cleaning up a brawl in a biker bar, singlehandedly. Right place, right time. All he’d wanted was to drink a beer and be left the hell alone. Maybe, subconsciously, he’d been looking for a fight because he hadn’t slipped out the door when one erupted around him.

  He’d just left the SEALs and was still trying to find a job that was the right fit for him. After he’d ejected the last drunk troublemaker from the tavern, the bartender had handed him a card, telling him that a guy with his skills really ought to have a talk with the woman whose card he was given. Her name? Elaine Ross.

  The next morning, he’d rolled out of bed and looked at his raw knuckles. The ache had felt good. Soothed the warrior’s soul in him that hadn’t been released since his last mission with his SEAL team months before.

  Remembering the card, he’d called, not knowing exactly what to expect.

  The husky tone of the woman who’d answered had set his heart thudding inside his chest. He’d mentioned the name of the guy who’d given him the card, and she’d chuckled. “He’s a friend. And he knows talent. When can we meet?”

  They’d set a “date” for later that day at a gym she knew in Bozeman.

  He’d arrived early, dressed casually in jeans, a tee, and boots, but with a bag in the car with workout gear if that was what she wanted to see. Him proving he could handle himself.

  Of course, based on that husky voice, his mind had gone to all kinds of sexy places imagining what she might have been interested in seeing him do since she’d invited him to the gym in the first place.

  The moment the glass doors had opened, a sweet breeze swept inside the facility, wafting away the heavy scent of male sweat. He’d turned his head.

  Like some 80s hairband video, she’d strolled inside with the wind dragging at her long brown hair and the slim black skirt she wore. Her blouse was a plain, businesslike white cotton, but her shoes were open-toed heels with tall spikes. Her hips moved side to side in a sway that was as mesmerizing as any hypnotist’s pendulum.

  In that moment, whatever she’d wanted him to do, he was hers.

  Cage cut the engine and stepped down from his truck.

  The front door opened, and Micky stepped down rock and mortar steps, his arms outspread. His hug nearly lifted Cage off his feet. Nearly. They were both built like bulls.

  “Man, it’s good to see you,” his friend said, releasing him and patting his shoulder.
“Long time, no see.”

  “Yeah, sorry about that,” Cage mumbled. He’d purposefully stayed the hell away from anyone he’d associated with in that life, not wanting awkward silences or “helpful” updates about what his ex was up to. He glanced around at Micky’s house. “You’ve come up in the world.”

  Micky wrinkled his nose. “I like what I have, all right.” He drew a deep breath. “Been tryin’ to go legit, though. I’m diversifying.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Cage said quietly, relieved for his friend.

  Micky waved a hand toward his door. “Come on inside. My girlfriend’s fixing a meal—be warned, she’s all about ‘clean food’. Trying to get her to make a burger and fries ain’t ever gonna happen.”

  Cage’s mouth stretched into a smile, thinking about the late-night greasy spoons they’d eaten at following a fight.

  Inside, white walls and a multitude of windows filled the spacious house with light. They headed to the kitchen, where Micky’s girlfriend was setting plates on a marble countertop. Both he and Micky dropped onto barstools.

  “Cage, meet Suzy Palmer. Suz, this is my buddy, Cage.”

  Cage gave her a little wave. “Good to meet you.”

  Her smile widened. “Hope you like the burgers,” she said, then lifted her chin toward the plates. “Quinoa burgers on sourdough rolls and a black bean salad.”

  Cage leaned over the plate and inhaled. “Smells delicious.” And it did.

  Her eyes rolled as she walked around the counter to sidle up beside Micky. “This one likes to complain about my food, but I never have leftovers. Enjoy the beers.” She kissed his cheek. “I’ll leave you two alone. I have some calls to make anyway.”

  When she left, both men watched her leave the room. Suzy Palmer was a looker. Nearly six feet tall, a slim athletic build, tawny hair, and sun-kissed skin.

  “Where’d you find her?” Cage said, lowering his voice.

  Micky grinned and waggled his eyebrows. “Through the homeowners’ association. She doesn’t have a clue what I do, and I plan to make a complete break soon, so I never have to lie to her.”

  Cage held out his beer bottle and clinked it against Micky’s. Then they both tore into their meal.

  Afterward, they walked down the long backyard toward the boat dock. A large pontoon was docked beside a speedboat. They took seats on a bench near the dock.

  Micky glanced sideways at Cage. “So, what’s this about? Haven’t heard from you in three years. It’s been so long I didn’t recognize the number when you called.”

  Cage glanced away because it was hard looking the man in the eyes when he was about to lie. “I need to get into the next fight.”

  When he glanced sideways, his friend’s eyebrows rose. “Seriously? You’re doing pretty good in the legit fights. I heard about you and McMann. You need the money?”

  Cage coughed, nearly strangling on his answer.

  “Oh, wait.” Micky slapped his upper arm. “You wanna see Elaine.”

  A sigh escaped. “I do.” Not a lie.

  “Sure you want to go down that road again? You were pretty messed up after the breakup.”

  “I’ve…got some things I want to say to her.” Again, not a lie. I’m taking you in, would work just fine.

  His friend was grinning when he glanced his way again. “Well, as luck would have it, I’ll know soon just where she’s gonna be tomorrow night. You want to be on the list?”

  Cage cleared his throat and nodded. “Yeah. That’d be good.” Tomorrow night would likely be the last time Micky called him a friend. He grimaced. Hopefully, he wouldn’t have to fight at all. If he got close enough, could get her outside for a little chat, it would be all over.

  “It’s gonna be outside of Virginia City. Some rancher’s field. Elaine’s trucking in bleachers and a ring. Tents will be erected for catering and the fighters’ changing room.”

  Cage nodded, understanding full well the set-up. His ex didn’t do anything half-assed—even if the setup was only for a four-hour event, she pulled out all the stops. Her clientele liked their comforts while fighters beat the shit out of each other.

  “She’s sending out the GPS coordinates tomorrow afternoon. I might make enough off my cut tomorrow night to officially retire.”

  Feeling a little sick to his stomach, Cage gave him a stiff smile. He’d be done tomorrow night, all right. For better or for worse.

  Back in the trailer on the worksite in Dead Horse, Cage felt edgy. With the sounds of tractor engines and chainsaws coming through the thin walls, it was hard to make out every word Reaper was saying.

  “We’ll need to be in Virginia City when Cage gets the call,” Reaper shouted, his face turning red. “Felicity and Fig, we’ll need you with us.”

  Felicity smiled. “Brian’s driving down the ops van. Not sure how we’re gonna get a wire on Cage so we can have audio and visuals.”

  Cage’s eyebrows rose. “If I have to fight, I’ll be stripped down to my briefs.”

  “Yeah, can’t attach the thing to his dick,” Reaper said, smirking.

  Fig gave Cage a once-over. “Don’t suppose I can pierce your ear…?”

  He gave her deadly glare.

  She shrugged, not a bit intimidated. “Swear, it won’t hurt enough to make you cry.”

  “I’m not wearing a goddamn earring.”

  “Maybe you could glue a bindi to his forehead,” Lacey said, snickering.

  Reaper cleared his throat. “There’s no time to work any other contact to get an invitation. Can you bring a friend?”

  Cage shrugged. “Can’t bring any of you from the TV show. Someone will make you. I can bring a girl.”

  “Woman,” Fig said, rolling her eyes.

  “Woman,” Cage said, frowning at her as he gave her a onceover. “You’ll need to rough up your edges. No nerd gear,” he said, eyeing her The Big Bang Theory T-shirt.

  “Suppose I have to wear leather and smoke cigarettes,” she muttered.

  “No, borrow one of Lacey’s two-sizes-too-small tank tops, wear a lacy bra and jeans so tight you looked poured into them. And do something with your hair…” he said, waving a hand at her shaggy black hair.

  Fig’s mouth gaped a bit.

  She didn’t really have to wear any of those things or do anything with her hair, but he liked making her uncomfortable after she’d threatened to give him a damn earring and a bindi—whatever the hell that was.

  “These things start after dark?” Dagger asked.

  “Yeah. They’ll have spotlights on the ring.”

  “Security?” Reaper asked.

  “If she hasn’t changed anything, she’ll have a couple of roaming security guards on the perimeter and another blocking the road in to check arrivals off the guest list. She doesn’t need more than that because a lot of the attendees will be armed as well.”

  “Two roaming guards?” Dagger said. “Piece of cake. We’ll get close enough to monitor what’s happening. You get her close to the perimeter, we’ll sweep in and take her.”

  Cage drew a deep breath. The thought of anyone else putting hands on her shouldn’t have bothered him, but it did. “She’s usually pretty busy, making sure everything’s running well. She runs the fights like a machine, dropping the equipment, overseeing the construction, then making sure the concessions, the bar, and waitstaff for the high rollers are running efficiently. Then she’s putting out fires while the fights run.”

  “She does all that?” Lacey asked. “I thought these were illegal fights, like those you watch on YouTube. People crowded around the fighters throwing money around for bets.”

  Cage chuckled. “People who come like to think it’s like the movie Fight Club, but she’s got this thing down to a science. She’s got skills any event planner would envy. She’s got her finger on the pulse of every little detail. When we take her out…” He shook his head. “Everything’s gonna go to hell.”

  “What about her brother? Won’t he step in?”

 
“Brent?” Cage said, his lips twisting into a snarl. “He’ll be too busy brownnosing the big money. Everything runs better if he keeps the hell away from the operation.”

  “Gotcha,” Reaper said. “We grab her then beat feet out of there and hope the confusion gives us cover.”

  They reviewed what each person would be doing. Reaper and Dagger would be infiltrating, getting close enough to provide support when Cage isolated Elaine. Lacey and Fig would get as close as they needed to send back sound and video to the ops van, where Felicity, with Brian’s help, would be monitoring the action and giving Reaper, who was in charge of the team, updates.

  To Cage, it all felt very familiar. Fetch ran his hunters like a spec ops team. Plus, it sounded like they’d have some serious sight and sound surveillance equipment.

  When Reaper was satisfied that everyone understood their roles, he dismissed them with a “Now, get the hell out of here. We’ll meet up here tomorrow at noon.”

  Team members were quick to push up from the table.

  “Anyone want to catch a meal at the diner before we hit the motel?” Lacey asked.

  When everyone else nodded, Cage felt as though he had to join them. He still wasn’t sure about this gig and wasn’t much of a mixer. He didn’t want to get too entangled with their private lives and who was dating who, and for sure, he wasn’t ready to watch more of the Ken and Barbie happy hour, but in the end, he convoyed with the rest of them to the diner.

  The parking lot was packed. He could’ve driven on by—the excuse would’ve been good enough to get a pass for being antisocial, but he found a space behind the diner, next to the large trash bins.

  As luck would have it, Nadine, the grumpy waitress, was standing outside, smoking a cigarette. She gave him a glance that looked like a stink-eye, or maybe she wore contacts and they were irritating her eyes. Not that she’d done anything to earn the benefit of the doubt. “Evenin’, Nadine,” he said, mostly to annoy her.